


tangled up in plaid

by FauxFidele



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Domestic fluffy murder husbands, Fondling, Frottage, Happy Ending, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sheet sex, Similar to clothing kink, if that's not a thing I'm making it one, sweet and kinky sex stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-03
Updated: 2017-01-03
Packaged: 2018-09-14 13:18:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9183370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FauxFidele/pseuds/FauxFidele
Summary: Hannibal comforts Will after waking up from a nightmare, that's it. There's fondling and snuggling and sexy time, and happy endings for all.Happy New Year, Fannibals! You're the most wonderful humans, and I'm so thankful for all of you.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to @Llewcie, the most wonderful beta/human ever. All mistakes are still mine!

The sunlight stings his eyes when he rolls over as he breathes in consciously for the first time that morning, immediately identifying (and taking comfort in) the savory, earthy musk of the man lying next to him. Hannibal sweeps the hair from his eyes and sits back on his elbows, turning so that he faces the backside of his companion. Dark, tangled curls stick out haphazardly in all directions from a long night of tossing and turning from nightmares that had yet to subside.

Will has a tendency to thrash about in his sleep and often it’s the blankets who suffer the brunt of his abuse, so as usual, the linens are all but kicked aside, leaving his bottom half just barely covered by a thin sheet that drapes perfectly over the curve of his ass. Tilting his head sideways, Hannibal’s eyes narrow to slits, admiring the way the material accentuated his perfect form, falling over just the right spots.

Will’s shoulder flexes and his arm begins to twitch, rustling under the sheets, and he mutters something low, indecipherable; a protest of some sort. Hannibal finds himself frequently hypnotized by Will’s sleeping form -- the way his muscles move and stretch with each restless movement, agitated and tense, even unconscious.

A sudden, helpless noise catches Hannibal a little off guard, making him flinch, as Will tumbles over once again, this time rolling flat on his back, arms free at his sides, but fingers twitching. “ _No, Hannibal_ ,” he groans drowsily, his expression contorting in discomfort. A hand shoots up suddenly and clumsily to shield his own face, but the nightmare only worsens and Will’s head begins to jerk from side to side.

A bittersweet pang of guilt shoots through Hannibal's chest, but he gulps it down, allowing his fingers to move lightly through Will’s hair in repetitive motions, not even hard enough to pull through the tangles. After only a few repetitions, Will’s movements finally still.

“ _Please, no_ …” Will breathes out, hardly loud enough to hear.

Hannibal moves a hand along the inside of Will’s arm, tracing fingertips over the sensitive skin inside his elbow. “ _Shhhh_ ,” Hannibal offers gently, guiding his fingers with the lightest of touches. He reaches the intersection of Will’s arm and torso, and Hannibal pauses, procrastinating by counting the freckles on his exposed abdomen. Of course he already knows the number by heart as he’s long since made it a point to memorize each mole, crease, freckle and scar on the other man’s body, but still … he likes to be thorough.

A voice breaks his count. “Hi.” Will’s voice is raspy and dry, but the warmth still filters through. His lips spread wide at the discovery of Hannibal's proximity and lingering appraisal, making it clear that he approves by scooting their bodies even closer together and nuzzling into his warmth, yawning loudly. 

Hannibal looks down at the sleepy mess of a man and smiles brightly, like he only does for Will, his eyes glowing with unrivaled fondness. “Hi,” he finally responds, and Will blushes instantly, burning from the heat of his affection.

Will’s heart begins to raise hell despite the foggy, sleepy haze that he's still trying to shake off, and it beats and kicks thunderously against his chest, doing its best to wake him up. The sight of this devil-may-care Hannibal -- propped up with broad, sculpted shoulders, silver and gold hair on both his head and chest slightly disheveled -- proves more than enough to stir Will to his senses, causing his morning wood to throb and nag at him irritably. He blinks away the annoyance, sinks into a warm smile, and turns his head to softly kiss the inside of Hannibal’s bicep.

“More nightmares?” Hannibal asks casually, as Will pulls back suddenly, furrowing his brows. He scrunches his nose, remembering the dream.

“The same one,” he answers, shrugging. “I live … you don’t.” 

Hannibal lifts an index finger to the younger man’s chin, angling his head up. “Look at me, Will,” he says softly, and obediently, Will looks up through his lashes with brilliantly wide eyes, eager to hear the words.

“I’m _right_ here,” he whispers, leaning in, pressing his lips to Will’s delicately, but catching only a brief taste of skin before pulling back. “We’re both here,” he says, reassuring, and odd as it seems, Will believes him.

Fingers curl around the back of Hannibal’s neck, threading into the fine hair, and Will slides his body closer, lifting his head to force their mouths to meet again. Will licks along the slit of Hannibal’s lips, exploring with his tongue and nips at the softest bits of flesh he can find to suck on. The doctor returns the enthusiasm in kind, biting and sucking in earnest, delighting in his flavor.

After a playful, appreciative hum, Hannibal clears his throat and pulls back once again. Will groans loudly with exaggerated disapproval, propelling himself backwards against the mattress, pretending to pout. The crisp, ivory linen sheet still cover his lower half, the pleated folds of the fabric tenting over Will’s furious erection, leaving little to the imagination. The outline of his boxers, in particular, catch Hannibal’s eye.

Will writhes under the sheet, letting his cock jerk impatiently, desperate to attract his touch. Carefully, with slow and deliberate movements, the doctor lets his hand travel down Will’s stomach, allowing his fingers to wander through the terrain until he reaches the seam resting just below his navel, following the border’s edge. Will’s breath hitches at the back of his throat, exhaling sharply as Hannibal hooks his thumb over the hand-stitched trim, teasing the breach.

His brows draw close and Will’s concentration is fixed on Hannibal's careful movements, his hips bucking instinctively, chasing the touch. Instead of pulling back the sheet, however, Hannibal lets his fingers explore further, moving beneath the fine-threaded cotton. He throws his head back against the pillow in anticipation of the touch, but Hannibal is light as a feather, completely unsatisfying, yet exhilarating all the same. He tugs at Will’s boxers, pulling them down to his knees, where the younger man finished kicking them away completely. When Will tries to shift from under the covers, Hannibal places a firm hand on his sternum, relegating him back to the mattress. One side of his mouth turns up, hinting at something devious.

Will relaxes onto his back, the friction of the opulently soft fabric over his aching cock only making his erection more intense, now dripping generously, creating a wet stain that immediately steals Hannibal’s attention. He reactively palms the sharp angles and the curve of Will’s hips, letting the cloth barrier pull taut and loose again against his sensitive cockhead, titillating him mercilessly.

Will shows his approval with another enthusiastic thrust of his hips, sliding himself into place under Hannibal's open palm, which he graciously allows, gently pushing the heel of his hand into Will’s erection, massaging, slowly increasing the pressure. He makes his way up to the damp stain over his swollen cockhead, using his thumb as reaches the tip, circling over the frenulum, and finally, looking tormented, Will moans out the frustration he’s been holding in. 

“ _Jesus_ , Hannibal, that feels good,” he says weakly, sighing it out.

Hannibal beams proudly, thumbing over the tip of his cock once again, this time lowering his head to hover over the same spot, letting his mouth make only the lightest contact. The sudden heat of the breath and contrast of friction gliding pleasantly against his cock makes Will cry out, and he forces himself to bite down on his fist to stifle the sound. 

Will doesn't hesitate to grab for Hannibal, but the older man retreats, moving back to his side, and Will protests with a long, winded groan. He juts his bottom lip out, casting his disappointment up at Hannibal.

“Oh, _I'm not done with you yet_ ,” he threatens softly, slipping a deft hand under his own covers and after a bit of adjusting reveals a pair of navy plaid briefs, displayed off the end of his index finger. Hannibal smiles so wide that the sunlight reflects off his teeth, emphasizing his sharp edges and angles, and Will realizes that this is the most gloriously human moment he's ever witnessed with his cannibal. His lips turn up at the thought.

Hannibal flings the underwear away, causing Will’s eyes to grow wide.

“Wow,” Will replies, lifting a single, curious brow. Hannibal tries to be nonchalant, but Will notices that his eyes keep darting back to the spot where the briefs had landed in a limp pile. He smiles briefly and looks back up at Hannibal, his eyes ushering him to continue. 

Hannibal plays dumb, shrugging as if not sure what he wants. Will clears his throat, trying to hide the obnoxious smirk that refuses to go away. “Well,” he says, words low, but firm, “... _go on_.”

It's not a request, so Hannibal obliges, swooping in close, and lifting himself over top of the younger man. Once again, the single linen sheet provides the most inadequate barricade imaginable, Hannibal’s apparently just-as-hard cock now pressing into Will’s from the other side, a torturous, agonizing kind of pleasure.

Will can finally put his arms around Hannibal and lets his palms glide over the bend of his hips, sinking his fingers down into the top of his ass, thrusting his hips instinctively, grinding into Hannibal without even meaning to do so.

Straightening himself, Hannibal straddles over Will, taking his own cock in his hand, wrapping his fingers around his length and tugging upwards, pulling his foreskin up and over the sensitive head. Will’s tongue glides over his lips, explicitly stating his interest in the goods presented before him.

In one smooth motion, Hannibal sinks down on top of Will, bringing their bodies together. He kisses along his neck, which vibrates from the guttural noises Will makes with each contact of Hannibal's meandering lips. With his dick still securely grasped between his fingers, Hannibal pushes his groin into Will, letting him feel that he's still touching himself on the other side of the sheet.

“ _Fuck_ , Hannibal, this is torture,” he complains, already breathless.

Hannibal becomes still. " _I can stop if you'd like_ ," he says, the words dripping heavily from his lips.

Will scoffs, then bites down on his lower lip, a smile building underneath. " _Fuck you_." 

A feral spark lights up his eyes and Hannibal aligns himself with Will, stroking himself against the other throbbing cock, anxious and impatient from the neglect, weighing the fabric down with the abundant outpouring of precum from both men. Will sways his hips in such a way to create friction against him, craving more contact, and Hannibal finally -- mercifully -- widens his grasp around Will’s cock and jerks them off simultaneously. Their hips move in tandem, searching for the intimacy that feels oddly obstructed, yet magnified by the sensation of the barrier.

Hannibal dips his head lower, stealing an unrestrained nip at Will’s unavoidably bitable ear, staying near, kissing at will, feeling himself get closer to the edge. Sweat accumulates at his temples and Will’s hold is still firm, but as nails start digging into Hannibal's back, he knows the younger man is nearly spent.

He brings them face to face, sweaty foreheads pressed together, their breath hot and sticky on each other's skin. Hannibal pops his hips a little more urgently as he grips them both, the friction of both his hand and their bodies building up to that sweet, impending rapture.

Will comes first, with a mantra of “oh gods” and “Hannibal”, which is more than enough to push him over the cusp as well, warm cum spilling over top of his fingers, onto the sheet separating them. They pant heavily for a minute, taking in each other's scent and sounds, until Hannibal peels himself away, sitting up a bit, admiring the disheveled mess of sex beneath him. They both look down, appreciating, a grin forming on Will’s still breathless lips.

“... and they'll never be soft again,” he says with a giggle. In fact, Will laughs so gleefully at his own joke that Hannibal can't deny him, joining him and letting himself fall back against the mattress. 

“We've got plenty of fine linens to choose from,” is all Hannibal says, smiling blissfully.

Will smirks at him, a crooked, debauched sort of thing. “Good. I think you’ll be doing _that_ again.”

Hannibal turns to him, moving the wet, tangled mess of bangs from Will’s forehead, and offers a gentle kiss. “Not a bad start to the new year,” he says, softly, but with a strong undercurrent of pride.

Will rolls his eyes, still grinning. “To more of that,” he quips, stifling a laugh. He turns to face him properly. “Happy New Year, Hannibal.”

“Happy New Year, Will.”

Hannibal watches as Will settles back on his pillow, peaceful now, his eyes closing as he falls back asleep under the watchful eye of his companion.

 

**Author's Note:**

> the title is a Queens of the Stoneage song :3


End file.
